My Ex Begged for My Forgiveness, But I Refused

"Julia, are you sure you want to join the Ancient Roman Empire Archaeology Project? It’s 2,000 kilometers away from the UK, in a remote location. You could be gone for ten, maybe even eight years."

"You’ve only been married for less than a year. Will your husband agree?"

The professor's voice held hesitation and concern as he studied her expression.

But Julia had already made up her mind. Without hesitation, she nodded.

"Yes."

"Besides, he and I were never truly husband and wife."

Seeing her determination, the professor sighed softly and handed her a confidentiality agreement.

"Julia, you’re an excellent student. When your mother joined this project, she was just as determined. You remind me a lot of her."

Julia signed her name, each stroke firm and deliberate. The sound of the pen against the paper felt sharp, almost piercing. Yet, as she finished, a flicker of regret crossed her eyes.

She was nothing like her mother.

At least, her mother had never been deceived by a man who tricked her for seven years.

She had lost count of how many nights Francis had left the hospital ward while she was asleep.

The night she discovered the truth, Julia followed him to the VIP ward on the top floor.

Maybe he had been in a hurry—he had forgotten to close the door.

Through the small opening, she saw Valerie resting comfortably in Francis’ arms, her expression shy yet content.

Valerie. The so-called childhood sweetheart he had often mentioned. The woman he had supposedly grown up with.

Even with others present in the room, Francis didn’t bother to hide his affection. His gaze toward Valerie was soft, filled with warmth.

So Valerie was the one he truly loved.

"Thank you, Francis, for booking such a luxurious VIP ward for me," Valerie said sweetly.

Her room had the best medical equipment and an elite nursing team.

Julia, on the other hand, had been placed in an ordinary ward. It was just one of many in the hospital.

Francis had always told her they were struggling financially, that he only made a few thousand pounds a month. How could he possibly afford a VIP ward that cost 10,000 pound per night?

She had tried to ignore it, telling herself it was just a coincidence.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

Francis wasn’t poor. He simply didn’t want to spend money on her.

Lying in her ordinary hospital bed, Julia stared at the mold on the ceiling, her heart hollow.

Then, she overheard a hushed conversation between Francis and his friend, Henry.

"Francis, you’re incredible!" Henry whispered in French, thinking she wouldn’t understand.

"You booked a VIP ward for Valerie but left your wife in an ordinary one. How long are you planning to keep your identity as the heir of Pendleton Co. a secret from Julia?"

Francis remained silent, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Julia.

"And if Julia finds out that you lied about having uremia that she actually donated her kidney to save Valerie, she’ll definitely divorce you!"

Then came the words that shattered everything.

"We were never married. The marriage certificate I gave her was fake."

His voice was cold, sharper than any blade, cutting straight through her heart.

"Francis, you’re heartless!" Henry spat.

"So everything was for Valerie?"

Francis’ silence was his answer.

Julia felt the world tilt around her. Summoning the last of her strength, she gripped his hand, her voice shaking.

"Francis … what are you saying?"

She wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard.

But the truth was, she had spent years working tirelessly to support them, even teaching herself French to take on more jobs. She understood every single word.

She looked into his deep, unreadable eyes. For a brief second, panic flickered in them.

Henry, sensing the tension, quickly tugged on Francis’ sleeve.

"Julia doesn’t understand what we’re saying, right?"

Francis didn’t rush to respond. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, dear," he murmured.

"We were just talking about work. I have a business trip to France next month, so I must’ve slipped into French."

He held her hand tightly, looking at her with the same affectionate gaze he had always given her.

But Julia no longer felt moved.

She only felt disgusted.

His love had never belonged to her.